Between Two Kings (22 page)

Baron Anne de Montmorency, the Marshal of France, waited for Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly, Duchess d’Étampes, and her ladies to come. He perched himself on the end of a winged armchair and waited. Montmorency had never liked Anne de Pisseleu and had an unspoken alliance with several other courtiers against her. Most importantly, Montmorency was allied with Diane de Poitiers, the Dauphin’s mistress.

Although many rumors circulated around the recent assassination attempts, Duchess d’Étampes seemed to live in her own carefree world while she was in Turin. Not willing to be the object of Anne de Pisseleu’s wrath, many courtiers preferred not to tell her that the king had married another woman. Montmorency decided that it was time for her to learn the truth.

Then a laugh reached his ears, and the herald announced that Anne de Pisseleu and her ladies-in-waiting had come. As the door burst open, Montmorency lurched to his feet.

The women streamed inside the room amidst chatter and laughter. They were a charming picture of beauty: cheeks rosy and hair wind-blown after an afternoon outdoors. In the center of the whirlpool, Anne de Pisseleu, Duchess d’Étampes, walked with the conviction of her high position. She held herself like a queen.

Anne de Montmorency was mesmerized for a second. Indeed, Anne de Pisseleu was a beautiful blonde-haired woman with almond-shaped green eyes that had a glimpse of intelligence, cunningness, charm, and kindness in their depths. Her body was well-curved and was often compared by King François to the body of Venus.

Anne de Montmorency bowed to Duchess d’Étampes. She also made a deep curtsy to him. Then Montmorency took one of Anne’s gloved hands and brushed it with his mouth in accordance with the etiquette. He smiled wryly at Anne, thinking that now he would destroy her happiness. As Anne stepped back from Montmorency, Anne plunked herself into the largest, fluffiest chair near the window. With a gesture of her hand, she showed Marshal Anne de Montmorency to take a sit near her.

Like a well-choreographed dance, four ladies-in-waiting turned together and curtsied to Montmorency. All these ladies-in-waiting were Anne de Pisseleu’s sisters and cousins. Anne, the daughter of Guillaume, seigneur de Pisseleu, had many brothers and sisters, all of whom had Anne to thank for their elevated status.

After Anne had become King François’ mistress, the Pisseleu family boasted of having three brothers as bishops, two sisters as abbesses, an uncle Antoine Sanguin was made Bishop of Orléans in 1533, and others siblings and relatives made great marriages. Many courtiers complained that Anne used her position as the king’s lover to elevate and enrich her family.

Anne de Pisseleu smiled at Anne de Montmorency. “Monsieur de Montmorency, did you bring any news from His Majesty King François?”

Montmorency also smiled with a wry smile. “Madame d’Étampes, I have quite alarming news for you. Our brave and benevolent sovereign, King François I of France, nearly died in Venice. The Emperor’s assassin tried to kill our king in one of the cathedrals. However, the king was saved by an unknown brave noblewoman. She herself was injured.”

Anne de Pisseleu felt her knees trembling. “Dear Lord! I knew that something could happen! I had a sort of bad foreboding.” She clapped her hands in frustration. “How is His Majesty feeling now?”

Montmorency smiled with a jeering smile. “The king is much better than you can imagine. He married the lady who saved him in the city of Venice. It happened several weeks ago.”

Duchess d’Étampes narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. The King of France loved her and wouldn’t marry so quickly after an annulment. Montmorency was her enemy and he was simply taunting, the duchess speculated. “Monsieur de Montmorency, I don’t appreciate your jokes,” she eventually uttered.

“It is not a joke, Madame d’Étampes. You can ask other courtiers if you don’t believe me.” His ironic smile turned broader, showing his white teeth. “It seems that you are the last person in Turin who doesn’t know the news from Venice.”

Torn between confusion and rampage, Anne de Pisseleu raised her chin. “Whom did the king marry and why?” Her voice sounded a little broken.

“Madame, the name of the new queen is kept secret in order to protect her life before all the dangers and threats are liquidated. This is the king’s official order.”

Anne sucked her teeth with impatience. She gave an icy glare to Montmorency. “Monsieur de Montmorency, do you have a letter for me from His Majesty?”

Montmorency shook his head. “No, Madame,” he said dryly. “However, if I were in your shoes, I would leave Turin for Paris as soon as possible. The emperor was intimidated by the annulment of our king’s marriage to his sister, former Queen Eleanor. The emperor is mobilizing and training his troops now. Although we don’t expect the battle to happen earlier than in the spring, it might still be quite dangerous to stay here.”

“I see,” she whispered, but not really quite understanding.

Montmorency was pleased with Anne’s despair that she was trying to hide under her mask of coldness. “Madame, your husband, Jean IV de Brosse, Duke d’Étampes and Count de Penthievre, is waiting for you in Paris. I suggest going back to him.” He was taunting her. “I think he isn’t sleeping and eating, just waiting for your arrival,” he mocked.

In 1533, King François arranged a marriage of convenience for Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly. She became wife of Jean IV de Brosse, Count de Penthievre, whom the king made Duke d’Étampes. Anne de Pisseleu and her husband were on bad terms and were estranged.

Anne de Pisseleu jumped to her feet, her eyes sparkling with anger, her jaw clenched. “Monsieur de Montmorency, get out before I ask the guards to make you leave!” Her eyes promised all kind of trouble. “Get out! Get out!”

Montmorency slowly rose to his feet. He smiled with satisfaction. “Madame, I am leaving. I just offered you my friendly advice because it might be dangerous to stay in Turin.”

“Get out!” Duchess d’Étampes cried out. She had always hated Montmorency, and that feeling was reciprocal.

His smile turned broader. “I guess His Majesty King François might bring his new wife, the Queen of France, here. In this case you, Madame, will probably be obliged to leave.” Then he stepped closer to the door. He bowed to the ladies and opened the door. “Have a pleasant evening and night, Madame d’Étampes.” His tone was sharp and sarcastic.

When Montmorency left the room, Anne dismissed all her ladies-in-waiting, excluding her elder sister Péronne de Pisseleu who was married to Michel Jean de Barbançon, seigneur de Canny and Varennes.

Anne de Pisseleu felt ripped apart and hot tears were spilling on her cheeks. “Péronne, François married another woman,” she murmured through her tears.

Péronne knelt down to her sister. “Anne, the king’s marriage doesn’t mean that he banished you from the court and that you are no longer his favorite. You have always had a large and warm place in his heart.”

“Péronne, if the King of France married that woman from Venice so quickly, even if she saved his life, she should be an incredible woman.”

“It must be a political union,” Péronne objected.

Anne swallowed her sobs. She took a handkerchief from Péronne’s hands and blew her nose. “No, Péronne,” she contradicted. “The king has already had two political marriages to Claude of France, his third cousin, and to Eleanor of Austria, necessary in order to release his two sons from captivity. If he married so quickly after an annulment, it means that it is not only the marriage for political reasons. His new wife must be an incredible woman.”

Péronne sighed heavily. “Anne, nobody can equal you. 
You are the most beautiful among the learned and the most learned among the beautiful
.”

Anne de Pisseleu only laughed bitterly. “Sister, I am not the only cultured and beautiful lady. There are many brilliant women. Take Anne Boleyn, the unfortunate Queen of England. For her sake, King Henry tore apart the whole country and separated the Church of England from the papacy. It was done only to marry Anne Boleyn.” She paused and swallowed a sob. “If King François’ new wife is somebody like Anne Boleyn, I will never be able to return his love.”

Péronne’s eyes grew wide. “But Anne…”

Duchess d’Étampes waved for silence. “I know our king quite well. He would have never married that woman if she hadn’t been an incredible woman.”

“What are you going to do, sister?”

“I will wait for François in Turin. Then, I will talk to him,” Anne answered. “I want to understand what he feels for his new wife. On a side note, I am not sure that he loves me anymore.”

“Don’t make conclusions in a rush, Anne.”

Anne looked down on her lap. “There is another thing I will never have.” She raised her eyes up, glaring at the ceiling of the room, then at her sister. There was pain in her green eyes. “I am barren. I haven’t given François even a single child in the past eleven years since I became his mistress.” She swallowed her sobs. “Péronne, you know that I desperately tried to get pregnant by François. You know that François wanted so much to have children with me.” Her voice took a lower octave. “But nothing helped!” she cried out. “I have never been pregnant by any man.” She sighed heavily. “François’ new wife may give him children, and they will ne the royal children, not the king’s bastards,” she lamented in her silent demise.

“Anne, the king still loves you.”

Anne de Pisseleu shook her head. “I am not so sure, sister. I feel this.”

“Oh, Anne,” Péronne sniveled. You know that my loyalty is always only for you.”

Duchess d’Étampes looked heartily at the girl. “Thank you, sister,” she said with gratitude. “Don’t worry – I will be alright,” she assured.

Péronne sighed. “If you need something, please let me know.”

“I need only François, my François,” Anne said as a mantra. She drew a deep, wearying breath. “I will make sure that François will always be mine. He is mine and only mine. I won’t let his new wife take him from me.”

September 1537, Venice, the Republic of Venice

Admiral Baron de Saint-Blancard and Jean de La Forêt returned from the Ottoman Empire in the middle of September. They brought positive news: Suleiman the Magnificent had agreed not to attack Corfu and to relocate more than a hundred of the Turkish ships to Marseilles so as to help France in the military campaign against the emperor.

In response, the Dodge of Venice Andrea Gritti agreed to sign an alliance treaty between France and the Republic of Venice. Thus, France was allied with the Republic of Venice, the Papal States, the Duchy of Milan, and the Ottoman Empire against the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, King François’ most ardent enemy.

François told Anne that his sister Queen Marguerite of Navarre had instructed Clément Marot, the infamous French poet and the supporter of the Protestant Reformation in France, to prepare the critical book about the Reformation in England led by Thomas Cromwell. The book must have stressed that Cromwell had designed the plot to murder the innocent Queen Anne Boleyn because she was his enemy who protested against the groundless Dissolution of the Monasteries. The poet Mellin de Saint-Gelais was preparing the incriminating pamphlets about Cromwell.

Anne also received a letter from Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, in which he said that he had become the closest friend of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. Henry Percy pledged that he would make Cranmer talk to King Henry about Anne’s last confession. Anne told François about Henry Percy’s actions. François approved of them, stating that Henry Percy had to be very cautious. Therefore, the downfall of Thomas Cromwell could materialize soon, Anne mused.

Anne and François sat on the settee in the art gallery of the Palazzo Montreuil. Everything around was an epitome of the Renaissance style. The furniture was made out of oak and decorated in rich style, with many inlays of gold, silver, and marble, some pieces even decorated with marquetry. Rich velvets and shimmering gauzes were used for wall coverings and draperies in the room. The pictures on the walls were painted by infamous Renaissance artists like Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Giovanni Bellini, Giorgio Barbarelli, and others. Anne’s French “grandfather” was an art-loving collector.

“Anne, Lord Northumberland should talk to Archbishop Cranmer after the pamphlets are issued,” King François suggested.

Anne stared at him. “Your Majesty, I agree with you, but the pamphlets will enrage King Henry. The angry king might be less prone to talk about Anne Boleyn.” It was difficult to talk about herself as a third party.

François took her hands in his. “Anne, the pamphlets will proclaim your innocence. Of course, Henry will be furious.” They were so close to each other. He began stroking her hair. “But without the pamphlets Archbishop Cranmer wouldn’t have any plausible reason to talk to Henry about your last confession.”

“Maybe I should write to Henry Percy and warn him not to talk to Archbishop Cranmer before the distribution of the pamphlets is finished.”

François nodded. “It is an excellent idea.” Then his face turned serious. “Write to Lord Northumberland that he may always find his refuge in France if there is any danger in England. I will instruct Philippe de Chabot regarding Lord Northumberland’s case.”

“Thank you,” she replied gratefully. She raised her head and stared at one of the paintings. It was the picture 
Madonna and Child
 by Giovanni Bellini.

“Do you like the painting?” François pointed at the picture with a jeweled finger. There was a note of such deep sadness in his voice that it startled Anne. “I see how you are looking at the Madonna. You think it is fine?”

Anne turned to face him and noticed a flash of grief in his amber eyes. “Yes, I like it, Your Majesty.”

“What is it that it speaks to you?” Again, there was a note of bleakness in his voice.

“It is the child that captures my attention. He is so young and so innocent. And Madonna’s hands seem to hold my good memories about England like she is holding a child.”

François managed a lamentable smile. “You have a keen eye, Anne. I also have a similar painting by Giovanni Bellini in my art gallery at the Château de Fontainebleau.” A furrow formed between his brows. “Looking at this picture, I often imagine the same as you do, but in my case these memories are about my four deceased children.”